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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25341307">Moonfish</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanbreeze7/pseuds/Oceanbreeze7'>Oceanbreeze7</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alex Rider Needs a Hug, BAMF Alex Rider, Bad Humor, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Cryptozoology, Finally, Gen, Gills, IT'S FINALLY HERE, Its me what did you expect, MONSTER YASSEN, Yassen Gregorovich Lives, uh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:01:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25341307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanbreeze7/pseuds/Oceanbreeze7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“One of these blokes yelled a moonfish at me, I think at least. Maybe like, Moron bitch? Eh, they’ve got accents.”</i><br/>“Everyone has accents,” Tom countered, already typing away. “Even you, you’ve got like, six fake accents.”<br/><i>“Tha’s Irish yer prick,”</i> Alex cackled half the world away. <i>“Anyways, ya’ find anything?”</i><br/>“Hold your suspenders, I’m looking.”<br/><i>“Can’t hold my suspenders, I’m holdin’ you, love.”</i><br/>“Oh wow, totally swooning over here,” Tom said, “looks like moonfish is just a funny word for a sunfish. You know, big slow and dumb?”<br/><i>“They called me a sunfish?”</i> Alex asked. He paused, processing a few seconds before he said, <i>“they’ve gone too far now.”</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom Harris &amp; Alex Rider, Yassen Gregorovich &amp; Alex Rider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>212</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Moonfish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>IN THIS HOUSE WE LOVE CREEPY ALEX<br/>But you know what we love even more than that?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>CREEPY YASSEN</i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tom saw Alex on his caller ID, resigned himself to losing his hearing for the day, and picked up the phone. The moment he did, a cacophony of static and chaos broke his eardrum, banging loudly on the remnants left until Tom was thoroughly deafened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“-ey mate!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>an absolute lunatic howled into he phone, riding the high of endorphins and too much freedom. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How’s your weekend?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like yours is better,” Tom said, fairly calm considering this was a normal circumstance. “Watched the telly for a bit, didn’t see you. Watched some football.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, yeah bit of an undercover show here,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex apologized. Tom distinctly heard the sound of a machine gun, but Alex didn’t seem too alarmed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How’s the game?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re losing by four.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Blast that,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex grumbled bitterly, before cursing and going, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“one second, mate. Goin’ to really blast that- oi! Oi! Your face looks like a Yorkshire terrier’s arse! Yeah, you- oh bugger off!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom waited patiently until Alex’s monkey howling lingered to a stop after a series of loud explosions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Sorry ‘bout that, mate. Argentina, you know how it is.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t there a civil war there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mm, maybe, not sure anymore,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex said dismissively, sounding far too sly to ever provide a real answer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can ya do me a favour? Pull up a wiki a check somethin’ for me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah,” Tom sniffed with fake annoyance. “A pity that free phone of yours doesn’t cover the internet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex moaned sadly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“at least I get to call ya’ and badger you ‘bout it. One of these ah, friends called me something really weird. I just wanna know what it is so I can insult them back.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Classic you,” Tom said casually, pulling up his search engine. “Take your time, I know three syllables really confuses you, Rider.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hah-hah, real funny,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex teased back, sounding breathless but pleased. The explosions had died off, likely an easy job for his friend the super spy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“One of these blokes yelled a moonfish at me, I think at least. Maybe like, Moron bitch? Eh, they’ve got accents.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone has accents,” Tom countered, already typing away. “Even you, you’ve got like, six fake accents.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, yeah, but bastards were bein’ mean and said it in an accent I don’t know. Just being plain rude.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So rude,” Tom agreed. He looked through the first few links, humming distracted as Alex proceeded to shout something in a truly butchered British accent. “Why are you sounding like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Eh?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex asked, voice a tad hoarse. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ah, makes it more fun. Goin’ in shoutin’ bloody mary makes the youngin’s squirm. Yer knows, gonna’ play it up a bit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sound like every stupid telly commercial ever,” Tom snorted, “Ah, look at me! Alex Rider! Top of the mornin’ old chap!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tha’s Irish yer prick,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex cackled half the world away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Anyways, ya’ find anything?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold your suspenders, I’m looking.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t hold my suspenders, I’m holdin’ you, love.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh wow, totally swooning over here,” Tom said, “looks like moonfish is just a funny word for a sunfish. You know, big slow and dumb?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“They called me a sunfish?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex asked. He paused, processing a few seconds before he said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“they’ve gone too far now.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, I think it works,” Tom teased. “Big, slow, bright red, nature’s styrofoam. Oh look, they’ve survived natural selection by being too useless to eat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“They’ve gone too far,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex repeated, sounding genuinely hurt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thanks, mate, I’m gon...gon go...blast if I know. Gon’ go put tape over their loo. Get some shitty arses because clearly that’s all I’m up against.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get some milk on your way home, biscuit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck yerself,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex said absolutely delighted and hung up.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom would have completely forgotten about the event if Alex actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>let it go.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, it isn’t even a matter of curiosity any more,” Alex muttered, pacing back and forth in front of Tom’s closet. Tom sat on his bed, calmly watching his furious friend pace and mutter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a matter of </span>
  <em>
    <span>pride </span>
  </em>
  <span>now,” Alex said seething.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom nodded, “pride, right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly,” Alex muttered, “and- and those...those </span>
  <em>
    <span>jerks,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex struggled to say, looking at Tom helplessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Jerks,” Tom soothed gently, “you’re doing well mate, one word at a time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, screw you,” Alex said, his mouth twitching despite his words. “But like, seriously mate. I mentioned it to uh, the theoretical place of potential employment,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As one does with a theoretical place of potential employment,” Tom reassured patiently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Alex said. He paused, trying hard not to actively laugh before he resumed talking. “Anyways, so I mentioned it to them and I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s like, a codename. Because they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>weird about it, but not at first? I didn’t think it was a thing and they didn’t seem like it but then they got </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom frowned and thought. Alex normally didn’t consider things as being...</span>
  <em>
    <span>weird. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Strange, sure. Exciting? Codeword for explosive materials. But weird normally came around when something was suspicious, and suspicious things generally lead to Alex finding out about clones or radioactive alligators or god knows what else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...what do you mean by weird?” Tom asked, dread growing by the second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s just it, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex grumbled sourly. “They were like...tense, like when you find out there’s an assassin after you kinda tense?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I literally can not relate to that, but keep going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like that,” Alex repeated forcefully, “but then they were really chill about it, and kinda happy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so we have established this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>about a useless fish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes Tom, this is not about a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fish,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex said, “this is about me, who is decidedly 90 percent, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a fish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom closed his eyes, knew he was walking into a trap and asked pained, “only 90 percent?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex said like a monster, “I flounder about ten percent of the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom sighed, rubbed his temple, and got back on track the best he could. “Okay, so...moonfish...it may kill you, but the theoretical boss person is </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>about it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, they called </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>a moonfish, in Argentina I mean,” Alex said. “Maybe it’s the name of like, a weapon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom flopped back on his bed, finding the entire conversation a tad ridiculous. “Oh yes, clearly you’re a weapon named after a chunk of cardboard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex scowled and flopped onto the bed, slamming his knobby ankles directly into Tom’s stomach. Alex flopped down, hair flying around dramatically like the little attention queen he was. “I just don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>get </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. I mean, I’m one hell of a catch-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No puns, not in the bed,” Tom said immediately. Alex pouted, knowing the rules but hating them. “Shush dearest, you are the largest most nutritionally useless moonfish in the whole ocean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate you, so much,” Alex mumbled face down into Tom’s duvet. “I don’t get it, they were like, so pissed at me when they called me that in Argentina.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, what did you do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A tank exploded and they thought I was inside and then I showed up and knocked someone out with a tire iron.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom closed his eyes and sighed. “There is so much to depack in that sentence mate. Can you simplify it for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Alex said. He straightened, using his elbows to prop his body up and squint in thought at Tom’s wall. “They...thought I was dead and then I wasn’t?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the title of your autobiography.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surprise bitches, I’m alive,” Alex said immediately, running one hand through his hair to fluff it up in a horrible look. “And then they called me a moonfish and everyone screamed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes that happens mate, it’s called being ugly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex ignored him with the power of being a best friend. “What if...moonfish...means I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>unstoppable.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom had a horrible feeling of dread in his stomach. “Alex, no. Don’t use this for evil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Technically I’m theoretically hired to be a good person, so this power can only be used for good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom knew, somehow, this would all blow up absolutely horribly.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alex,” Tom said, “Alex, this is important, look at me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Alex said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alex please,” Tom said, giggles barely breaking through, “please, I just checked the animal channel website. Don’t you want to know about your legacy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom, this is no laughing matter-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They are clumsy swimmers,” Tom said, voice distorted with choked laughter, “waggling their large dorsal and anal fins to move and steering with their </span>
  <em>
    <span>clavus. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Have you tried that, Alex? Have you tried repositioning your </span>
  <em>
    <span>clavus-.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One day, you are going to die,” Alex said confidently, “and it will be because I shoved my clavus down your throat.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Alex came back after his next theoretical mission, he wasn’t as bemused by the situation. Tom took one look at his friend and recognized the need for a serious conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They waited until they got to Alex’s house, always bugged but at least one room (Ian’s office) had an overwhelming amount of soundproofing secured in place. Alex walked in, locked the door, and locked the secondary door which, somehow, turned Tom’s phone off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex sat down on the rug in the middle of the floor and asked, completely serious, “do you believe in Mothman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom closed his eyes, breathed through his nose carefully and pondered the question. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>strange enough to warrant a thorough examination, but ridiculous enough Tom felt uneasy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I...do not believe there is a man-moth hybrid,” Tom said strained, “please tell me you did not meet a man-moth hybrid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t,” Alex confirmed with a deep unreadable expression on his face. “I...Do you believe? In aliens and the uh, vampire dog-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“El Chupacabra?” Tom asked, “okay, that one is totally real. There are vampire bats, you can’t tell me there are vampire animals elsewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex nodded, face still unreadable. He breathed through his nose, exhaling heavily with both hands clasped under his chin. “I think moonfish is one of those.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A cryptid?” Tom asked shrilly. “Oh god, oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>god. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The government is holding Mothman captive? Holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No, forget Mothman,” Alex said baffled. “I think moonfish is like...a code, for something surreal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say it,” Tom said, “out loud.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Alex asked, looking truly taken off guard. “What do you-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vampire.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex looked pained. “I...want you...to look into the evidence of moonfish being real. Is there like...a...</span>
  <em>
    <span>cult?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom said, “I am ridiculously excited about this.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom didn’t have as much time as he’d like, admittedly he had been behind on homework and their History teacher was ready to bring out the big guns if it meant Tom actually turning in something on time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom had been trapped between an overdue English essay and a history booklet that theoretically, should have been completed over a month. He lost it, stole Alex’s, lost </span>
  <em>
    <span>his, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and ended up scrambling last minute to label every country on the nineteen pages and figure out their capitals. Some countries he never heard of, but apparently it was vital information to their preppy school education.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex was a lucky bastard. Tom didn’t know what sort of deal his friend had with the school that let him be excluded from so many things, likely a sneaky stealthy spy education programme. Or summer school. Not like it mattered considering Alex could memorize theories and facts like a sponge in a tub of cranberry juice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That didn’t mean his friend knew everything. Alex held the crown for the king of dumbass ideas. Far too often Tom got a phone call to check a random fact or object that likely somehow would change the fate of the world. It was strange, but the British Government covering his cell plan was really nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sunfish had </span>
  <em>
    <span>plenty </span>
  </em>
  <span>of mythology around them, normally on island countries or cultures that had some sort of experience with the massive animals. Tom searched around and found some testimonies written by sailors who first met the giant fish, learned they were a delicacy, and also that the giant idiot fish ate jellyfish. Beyond that, there wasn’t anything unusual about the fish. Kinda stupid looking, but that wouldn’t lead to such an instinctual terror about the things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which left Tom searching for moonfish, which led to significantly less response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The school internet blocked the majority of the end results, not because they were inappropriate or </span>
  <em>
    <span>saucy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but because they led to internet sources that were hosted outside the country. A VPN bypassed that hiccup and Tom spent the class scrolling through chat forms focused on ridiculous cryptids.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which...admittedly...was pretty fun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at this mate,” Tom said, trying to hide his enthusiasm. “This post is like, opinion on possible survivors of the Pleistocene.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex didn’t look at him, scrambling to catch up on a week’s missed classes in the little time he had. “Little busy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair,” Tom agreed, browsing through the comments. “There's the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Diprotodon, </span>
  </em>
  <span>which is like a large rabbit? No, okay so Australian native- aboriginals say it was a gyedarra which died out a few generations ago which was a giant rabbit which makes sense, yeah? But the giant holes and bones are in waterholes and riverbanks which don’t make sense-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex ignored him patiently, while Tom found the theory of a massive aquatic rabbit even more impossible. That one had some science behind it. “Whoa, dude. There’s a bloke called Charles Paxton that used statistics to estimate like, undiscovered animals, yeah? Dude, cryptid fans are </span>
  <em>
    <span>legit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some of the forms were funny, interesting. People making costumes and making crafts about cryptids and other scary monsters. The ones with the greatest amounts of votes and links were the ones that naturally left Tom stiffening in his seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pulled his phone closer to his face, looking at the decent phone picture as well as trail cameras picking up the same strange thing. The commenters all seemed on the same thought, nobody sounding confused or concerned despite clear photographic evidence of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the hell was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>crawler? </span>
  </em>
  <span>How did this bloke have pictures and a short video of a freaky four-legged human thing skittering around a tree outside his window? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s America,” Tom muttered under his breath. Thank god that weird thing wouldn’t be by his window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were other things, some people appearing to dismiss or debunk cryptids quickly while others provided a surprisingly thorough examination. Tom thought at first that some of the ideas and links were ridiculous, but the followers in the community were...honestly pretty genuine with research.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Aw, why not?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tom thought, tapping at the top of the screen to create a throwaway account and join the community. A few clicks and options then Tom was pausing to think about how to draft his first submission. He thought, trying to figure out what exactly to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Hey mates,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tom thought, typing it in quickly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Heard something about a moonfish. Looked online but somehow it’s not a sunfish? Don’t know much, but I don’t think it’s aquatic. Argentina if it helps, cheers.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hit submit and wondered how the internet would surprise him.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cryptocarrol12.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>I won’t lie, I saw your title and thought it was crap. Looked into it and do you not actually know about moonfish?</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>Itsbeen1wheat</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Oh FUCK NAH</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>S0es442</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Moonfish are big shit. You said Argentina which doesn’t make that much sense, they’re normally really far north in Siberia or Arctic Circle. Haven’t heard anything about Antarctica tho</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>Toadbrooding -&gt; S0es442</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Yeah but theres a war in argentina and drug stuff moonfish aren’t weird</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>Glublover</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Moonfish are top tier. Was it at your house? Move</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>blink0R</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>No photo - no cred sorry mate</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emdeedem</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Wow that hit my oh fuck no bingo card</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rexmasoreass</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Lmao someone get arthuchoke in</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>Arthuchoke -&gt; Rexmasoreass</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Already hear lmao I got moonfish pinned for alerts. Moonfish are top level cryptid, super dangerous. Not too many sightings but the ones that have been established are sick. Humanoid but can survive ridiculous injuries. Reportedly they don’t eat but nobody knows how many there are. They show up in battlefields or dangerous areas in the world bc they survive what humans can't. Mostly are up north, hikers finding frozen corpses that are breathing.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rexmasoreass-&gt; Arthurchoke</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Tell them about ur!!!!</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>Arthurchoke -&gt; Rexmasoreass</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>I fish off the coast of Spain and met a Moonfish in a mud tributary. Just laying there with its limbs all stretched out and gurgling. I swear no organs or blood in it, only gills like those salamanders. I took a pic and poked it with one of my nets and it gurgled and folded in and vanished into the water. Here</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>[attached image jpg. moonfish(2)]</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey mate?” Tom said with a forced casualness that didn’t fit him. “Maybe you...shouldn’t mention the moonfish thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex looked at his friend, completely baffled. “Why not? It’s likely just a codeword for something. If not, it’s gotten me out of like, three missions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah but…” Tom said a little high strung. “What if it puts a target on your back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I already </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>a target on my back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But a worse one!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex rolled his eyes, drumming his fingers carelessly along his arm. “Honestly, it’s weird. They stop shooting at me and try to like, squash me. It’s actually helped, fewer bullets and more running.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom had a strange tone in his voice. “They’re trying to crush you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, a bit. It’s not bad, I prefer it to guns-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re trying to bury you,” Tom said with that weird unusual sort of fear. “They’re trying to bury you alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mate what has gotten </span>
  <em>
    <span>into </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom shuddered, gnawing on his lip. “Can you promise me to be careful? This...I have a bad idea about this moonfish thing.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In a moment of chaos when the stars did not align, Alex found himself sprinting, desperately for an open window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walls and plaster burned around him, the old building groaned and began to collapse. The human traffickers, shipping across the channel under the guise of a ferry for tourists, set their house on fire. At first, they had shot at Alex and he fell back on shouting something which generally led to the idiots trying to crush him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, they grimaced but didn’t look surprised. They switched tactics, locked the doors and began to pour gasoline through the hallways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We got a moonfish!” the man in charge shouted, pocketing his gun and hauling out jerry cans filled with flammables. “You hear it! Lock all the doors! Keep it inside! Bring this fucking building down on it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex choked on the smoke, crawling on his belly towards the nearest window yet to explode out. “These people are fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>insane-.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The building was screaming, collapsing and shattering around him. Alex scrambled, kicking out the window and ducking as bullets rained through the gap to keep him inside the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex couldn’t see, his eyes watering and smoke billowing out in thick tar clouds. He wheezed, coughing the sick hack that felt on the bad side of vomiting. He retched, drooling instinctively as his eyes watered to the point of blinding him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The roof was cracking and Alex knew he couldn’t escape from the window, not with so many guns determined to keep him inside. The ground floor was locked, which meant he had to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>higher.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck me,” Alex croaked, keeping his head low as he struggled towards the fire escape. The doors would always open, the smoke blasting upwards with enough heat that Alex’s hair lifted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He struggled upwards, the heat leaving his skin sweating and shirt sticking to his skin. All around him, the world was cracking and splintering away, distant shouting hidden under the shrill sound of metal fragmenting and warping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex kicked open the third floor door, stumbling out to a floor so dark and sweltering he staggered to his knees and crawled to a soot stained window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shattered it, coughing and keeling over as the ground splintered apart. The house broke, Alex scrambling out the open window- just as the roof slammed down and pinned him to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Alex woke up, it was to a boot nudging his face and rolling his head to the side. Alex gurgled, struggling to breathe and drooling a mixture of vomit and mucus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He struggled to open his eyes, vision distorted and hazy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard something, a noise of surprise that was too distorted to comprehend. A hand touched his face, lifting his chin to face upwards into a very familiar face belonging to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead man.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“B’ck ‘ff,” Alex slurred through the haze, smiling with slack muscles. He didn’t know if all his teeth were still there. “...’m...m’f’sh…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen Gregorovich (</span>
  <em>
    <span>dead dead he was shot and murdered and-</span>
  </em>
  <span>) lifted both eyebrows in dry amusement and professional scrutinized. “Ah, Alex.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Alex slurred, his vision blackening on the corners. He giggled, everything feeling surreal and distant and pain broke the fine line of sanity and humour. “Look, ‘m dyin’ w’ you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen’s face was unreadable, his face flat but eyes sharp and somehow different. “It...appears you are. You were why they brought down the building?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y’s,” Alex said, giggling a bubble of saliva and blood. “M’...th’ g’ me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen’s mouth twitched slightly. “It looks like your luck ran out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” Alex agreed, closing his eyes and hacking cough. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. His eyes flashed open, unfocused as he struggled to inhale. Floundering, shoulders curving but unable to truly lift off the ground- then air broke the bubble of mucus that clogged his throat and Alex felt his chest lift with proper air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen pulled back, wiping the blood from his mouth with a professional level of disconnect. Alex gasped, mouth open and slack as drool dripped down his face. “Y...k’ss m?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did they bring down the building?” Yassen asked, eyes flickering to the destruction around them. People were shouting distantly. Chaos as they sorted through the rubble very carefully. “Why did they burn it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex became unresponsive, head lolling to the side. Yassen grabbed his face again, supporting it with one palm before rapidly tapping on his forehead. Alex’s eyelids fluttered, eyes hazy and glazed. “Mm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The building, why did they drop it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mn,” Alex said slowly, his responses becoming more and more unresponsive. “M’ m’f’sh b’tch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen unscrambled the boy’s slurred words with years of codebreaking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m a moonfish, bitch.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen was unable to suppress the scoff, little more than a gentle exhale of disbelief. “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a moonfish. Your legs have been crushed as well as your pelvis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex’s eyes started to close again. Yassen observed the boy. A slab of metal roof support, I-beams large enough to destroy an automobile, crashed down on Alex Rider’s leg as well as a boxcar’s weight of concrete extending all the way to the child’s naval.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Yassen said slowly. His voice was distorted, different in a way Alex couldn’t decipher. “...This is it for you. You’re dying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Alex agreed with a bloodied smile. Eyes were beyond focusing. The boy giggled, wet bubbles of blood dripping from nostrils and from his broken teeth. “A..a le’s...wi’ y…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>At least it’s with you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yassen translated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was something incredibly wrong about this, something incredibly sad about Alex Rider dying like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were a fool to go around claiming to be a moonfish,” Yassen said. “You’re not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex made a noise, something dismissive and quiet. The time between responses stretched longer, and then, Yassen knew, the boy would not respond at all and die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen knew this would happen eventually, he had come to terms with it. The boy was not Hunter, he had saved the boy before. There was no more obligations to his safety.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex said, with eyes half-open a slurred combination of pained noises and a whimper. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t go Yassen.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen felt something give, something small and twisted with instincts long since forgotten and buried in muck and ocean water. “You’re not a moonfish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex didn’t open his eyes anymore. His chest hadn’t risen for a while. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t go Yassen.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something in Yassen’s head snapped, shattered, and before Yassen could thoroughly evaluate the situation, he was cupping Alex Rider’s head with both hands. “You’re not a moonfish. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he casually forced air into the boy’s lungs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex came back with a weak gurgle, hands twitching with spindly strength no stronger than plastic film. Yassen pulled away once he knew the boy would last another half minute, long enough for Yassen to thoroughly evaluate the rubble and state of evacuation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The prospects were poor. The I-beam wouldn’t move without a crane. The concrete was fractured, which required a small team to lift all individual components and not shift them higher. The child wouldn’t walk again if he was lucky enough to survive. Broken ribs were likely, not to mention a deflated lung by the sound of his breath and the colour of his bloodied mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t be removed from the rubble with your legs intact,” Yassen informed the child. “You are experiencing the first stages of shock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex didn’t respond, eyes glazed and flat. Washed out, the bags below his eyes turned purple as his skin blanched of colour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alex,” he urged, tapping along his cheekbones to rouse the boy the best he could, “Alex. I can remove you, but you need to hold your breath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex's eyes rolled back into his head. Yassen scrambled, smacking the boy enough to bring him from the unconscious. “Alex, you need to hold your breath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Kay,” he breathed so quietly it felt like a moth flutter against Yassen’s ear. The boy was twitching, feeble movements along his throat as his heart began to give out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen didn’t know if he would regret this. “There are men here hunting for you. You can </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>scream, do you understand me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” the boy agreed quietly, whispering something wetly, “m...c’ld.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m cold.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now or never. Yassen moved with the urgency of the primal requirement, wrapping his hands around Alex’s head and breaking the boy’s nose inward with a sharp snap of cartilage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex didn’t respond as his nose closed, his nasal passage collapsed from bone tissue occluding the opening. His jaw fell slack, so Yassen lifted it and sealed his mouth over the boy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first exhale lifted Alex’s chest so high his ribs cracked audibly. Yassen could tell it was the boy’s right lung that had deflated, it split the surface and rapidly leaked air into the pleural cavity and ruptured his diaphragm in one motion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy’s eyes opened, he choked feebly as the pressure increased- but Yassen knew never to break apart. Alex’s lungs inflated until his ribs snapped and cracked and split from his sternum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex made a noise, a broken shrill sound that Yassen heard rasping across his vocal cords. More air, increased- until the boy’s diaphragm peeled apart and oxygen-filled lower. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex slumped unconscious to the ground, Yassen following him until he knew the boy collapsed entirely to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However long it would take to gently stretch the boy’s remaining lung, larger and larger whilst splitting his skin until it </span>
  <em>
    <span>broke.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Alex came to, impossibly gasping and seizing, he was aware that he couldn’t breathe. He clawed into fabric, hands tangling in a leather jacket and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>excruciating </span>
  </em>
  <span>agony somewhere in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thumbs traced along his cheekbones, then lower along his jaw. Carefully, one hand pressed under his chin and slammed down hard enough to crush Alex’s throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jerked, gurgling and failing to wheeze as suddenly Yassen yanked his head away. From what Alex could see with his swirling vision, Yassen’s entire face was coated in blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t scream,” Yassen said breathlessly, but didn’t wheeze or pant. He broke away, quickly looking down and looking visibly frustrated. “I’m going to pull you out- do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>exhale, or you will die, little Alex.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex didn’t think he could even if he tried. His throat was a numb collapsed pipe, broken cartilage and his lungs nothing of the operation. Yassen nodded, grabbed both of Alex’s shoulders and tore him in half.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy split like a fish, his shoulders and head the only untouched skin on him. His sternum bruised and bloodied, distorted outwards in a ballooned anomaly of air trapped inside. His diaphragm fluttered, body </span>
  <em>
    <span>torn </span>
  </em>
  <span>with entrails spilling out from the crushed remains of his lower half. Yassen dragged him away, steadily gutting him with each step away. Intestines formed a rope that steadily unravelled, pulling out further like a reversed fishing line. Pancreas, gall bladder, the meaty purple of a liver being ripped away to lay on the pavement. Higher, until Alex seized and gurgled as his stomach and esophagus snapped free. Field dressed, a single distended lung connecting impossibly to his trachea-.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t exhale,” Yassen warned again, reaching </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside </span>
  </em>
  <span>and fishing out the fist-sized kidneys somehow clinging to the tissue near his spine. Fat beaded, long trails from his abdomen supporting a digestive tract that no longer remained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Alex went limp once more, Yassen set him down and lifted him like he was a bag. Little more than a toddler, a backpack filled with cargo he held in both arms before clamping his mouth over the boy’s again to breathe into him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen hadn’t opened his lungs in years, not since he needed to breathe in places no human could. Months were spent in the water, hiding until evacuation teams could collect him. The weeks at sea when Hunter taught him how to drive a boat and in return, he showed the man how to see the water currents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen’s skin split along ancient scars, thin white seams where tissue never intended to stay together. It unfurled, sliding away gently like one would drape silk over marble. It had been years, long-forgotten moments of time that slipped away in waking moments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His throat opened like a flowering bud unfurled its petals, distending open and probing outwards with feathery tufted processes as dark as the blood on Alex Rider’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>years, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and finally, Yassen felt his lungs breathe in such a way that confirmed he had been suffocating in his attempts at camouflage. The first breath, the gentle inhalation along hundreds and thousands of lamellae and hairline scars opening into spiracles. Individual ribs spreading and slipping free from a false muscular encasement, extending as operculum to vent air through the slits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen hadn’t breathed entirely in forever and now was not the time. Alex was a horribly mutilated corpse, still breathing as Yassen breathed into him. Yassen didn’t recall this experience himself- he had been too young or too traumatized by it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He can’t breathe on his own,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yassen knew. The acrid stench of burning drywall and plaster burned along his delicate tissues, numbing a handful of feathery appendages that withdrew slightly under his skin and humanoid limbs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There are still men searching for a moonfish.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If they found him, Yassen didn’t know if he could suitably maintain air ventilation through Alex Rider </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>fend off several determined humans. There were few options for them, particularly this far in enemy territory. If Yassen had a choice, he would prefer to settle in a tributary or wetland with little human interference. Alex was in no state for distance, so the near ferry lane would suffice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen lifted Alex, holding him close and secure in his arms. He breathed in from the hollows between each rib and exhaled with gentle cycling through the child’s broken trachea. Yassen would not let the boy suffocate, not after this level of investment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vestigial teeth, the bony hooked barbs that served no digestive or predatory function, distended from the false palette and dug firmly into the boy’s face, puncturing through the cartilage to latch into his sinus cavity. Alex, unconscious, did not respond. External gills longer than eagle primary feathers lashed about, wrapping securely around the child’s throat and nape to assure without any doubt that the child would drown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen walked, bones clicking oddly and uncomfortably when his skin fit him only halfway. The burning smoke gave him cover to walk with staggering steps towards the pier. The green algae waters were not ideal but would hide their location once submerged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen hopped over the side with a splash, disturbing kelp and saltwater harbour fish that lived below the dock. Seaweed slime moved, they would leave obvious tracks behind but none could follow them lest the human traffickers were equipped to brace the ocean waters with scuba equipment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex stirred slightly when the water caressed his skin, eyes fluttering slightly once water covered him entirely- but still the boy did not awaken. Yassen breathed, oxygen running across filaments and cycling along with the gentle movements of gill rakers that fully emerged from his pores and flesh. The keratin shell of moonfish emerging from the soft skin of humans, bulging like a rock under vacuum sealing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, he too split and rid himself of the confining sack of tissue. Gills flapped about gently, red and pink or greenish hued along the mismatched joints of creatures he’d seen. More than one flexible appendage dedicated itself to securing the boy to him better, encapsulating him in tentacles or fins and cradling him like a mermaid purse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bottom of the ocean, just off the coast of Dunkirk, was a thick mess of silt and sand made from calmer waters off the coast but sheltered by the landmass of the United Kingdom. A few fish investigated, large invertebrates along the ocean bottom that scuttled away in clouds of sand. Yassen moved, uncoordinated mixtures of a thousand lungs and gills and too many legs to move at once. Alex drifted limply, hair shifting like grass in the filtered sunlight and open cavity clouding the water red. Eventually, that would clear and the sharks would leave them be. Until then, Yassen would settle like the river fish or flounder and lay gentle until his (</span>
  <em>
    <span>ward? Kin?</span>
  </em>
  <span>) grew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he would. Moonfish breathed, they endured, they had no need for organs that had no purpose beyond that. The brain operated on oxygen and only that; there was no use for blood beyond that of carrying air. There was no need for digestion or consumption. </span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mud was settling, the tides and pulls drawing higher on the sand. The fish returned time ago, curious and then uncaring. A large creature swam above them- a boat rumbling miles towards the surface. Sunlight diffused into shades of cerulean and dark emerald. Dab with eyes on one side of their face settled in the dirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen ignored them, eyes glazed and seeing but not focusing or processing beyond that of distant awareness. He moved subtly, extending and anchoring his limbs to the sediment but did not go further. He caressed his gills gently around and over, stirring small currents of freshwater and air across the pallid skin of his ward. Repeatedly for cycles of unknown time, until gills developed and it would learn to breathe on its own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen breathed for it, driven by instinct and the knowledge of kin and something ancient and far larger than himself. Breathe, flutter his gills over the surface of the young to promote oxygen-rich waters to follow his trails. Lay in the mud surrounding the fastest running current, absorb the nutrients to promote keratin growth. Ignore the fish, expand occasionally to disrupt the deposits of mollusks and algae on his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Breathe, and breathe into the young until it’s fledgling organs spread into the full feather appendages. Do not release the lock, don’t let it drown. Its gills are too premature to survive without oxygen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kin survived and endured. The water was dark but so was night below the moon- the safest time to travel. They breathed together, exchanging air and nutrients and gases that cycled about in soft bubbles. The minnows ran by, sticking close to their skin and breathing the gases of production with fishy eyes and open mouths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen breathed long enough that seaweed broke apart as he shook his skin. Great clumps of kelp snapping off under undulating surfaces, driving skyward in a thick matt of the green weave. He ignored it, breathing and observing the ratio of breath provided to bubbles expended. The Kin was surviving independently, it’s young feathers as long as a human’s arm and soft coral pink in the hazy light. A youngling that meant little in a species that didn’t age. Far too small for its skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen withdrew, opening his mouth and slowly withdrew until water gushed from a long-held seal. The crackle and snap of mineral deposits and the beginning formation of coral drifted away in an ashy powder. The new one floundered, flapping about erratically at the first touch of water on its primary lungs. It’s mouth with little milk teeth, no sharper than a shark, bit about with little gasping movements, spewing bubbles and choking liquid as its gills began to open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It struggled for a moment, wailing silently before it comprehends how to breathe independently, pumping water and flapping the frilled appendages. It calmed, shuddering and breaking away the small colony of crabs living near its flank. It gulped, croaking a thrumming along with one of its many vocal cords.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was fine, it would learn to sustain itself and awaken fully once it recognized how to sustain itself. There was no risk to the kin now, it’s body growing and reforming like crustaceans moulting from their shell. It would live, successfully reared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen withdrew on crunching old limbs, startling schools of fish as he receded to a different area to rest and recover his own skin.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tom opened the door to his apartment at midnight, staring in pale horror at a dead man standing in the archway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey mate,” Alex croaked, “can I come in? I’ve been walking for bloody hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom said, “mate, you’re dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dead </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired, </span>
  </em>
  <span>bollocks, I think I broke my foot from walking-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No like,” Tom said, “we buried you in a grave a month ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex blinked owlishly, looking thoroughly perplexed. He squinted around Tom’s house with a level of suspicion. He scratched his hair, long and scraggly and looking oily beyond words. “I’m...pretty sure I’m alive right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly this isn’t the weirdest shit you’ve done,” Tom said, opening the door further. “Get in here, prick. I guess I’m letting zombies in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rude,” Alex muttered, stumbling past him with a loud snap in his knee. “Bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell. </span>
  </em>
  <span>My knee has been cracking like crazy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You deserve it,” Tom said immediately. He settled in the kitchen, watching as Alex completely bypassed that to go to his sink and drink straight from the tap an obscene amount of water. “Jesus, thirsty much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First day with the new mouth,” Alex gargled back, capturing a mouthful to casually mist in Tom’s face. Yep, still Alex.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, where did your lousy arse wash up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Funny you say that,” Alex said, ducking his entire </span>
  <em>
    <span>head </span>
  </em>
  <span>below the tap. “So, I swear I was dying over on a mission, yeah? Like, I can’t remember it properly but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>I got crushed like a bug-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Deserve it,” Tom mumbled, causing Alex to huff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyways, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I woke up on the bank of the Thames by that fish-bitch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The bloke that overprices Cod?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the wanker,” Alex said, nodding sagely. “Woke up there a few hours ago. Had to walk home since I didn’t have any money on me. I didn’t have any </span>
  <em>
    <span>shoes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and my clothes look like I robbed them from a civvie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mate don’t call them civvie, you never served in a war that’s gonna get you a shiner from an actual vet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got </span>
  <em>
    <span>shot,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex whined like a kid, “come on, I get to call them civvies. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyways, </span>
  </em>
  <span>woke up there and made my way here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom hummed and tilted his head and said, “you are the weirdest fucker I’ve ever met, mate. Cheers.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, Tom awoke to Alex shrieking in bloody murder and holding a knicked finger in his mouth. A knife the culprit and a half-cut tomato the witness to a horrible crime.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, Alex,” Tom said tiredly, “not my mum’s cutting board too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I just wanted a </span>
  <em>
    <span>tomato,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex defended, pulling his finger out of his mouth to look at him with a frown. “Don’t freak out-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m totally going to freak out now. Did you cut off your finger? Did you bloody chop it off when cutting a tomato?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! It’s just bubbling-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m made of </span>
  <em>
    <span>sparkling tomato juice okay?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex said, voice rising shrilly. He held his finger out, where indeed he was bleeding thing with something bubbly like carbonation. Tom stared at it, watching bubbles fizz out like a shaken can of pop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mate,” Tom said, then grew silent. “Alex.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he whined, staring at his finger with wide eyes. “Tom, Tom mate you’ve gotta stab me. I think I’m bubbly now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom rubbed his eyes and dearly wished for coffee or tea. “Why did you have to come back from the dead filled with carbonation?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex mumbled under his breath, hysterically, “what in </span>
  <em>
    <span>carbon-ation?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom ignored him and tried to think of everything he possibly could to explain the phenomenon. “Mate, I’m not going to stab you. That’s a bit of an overreaction to finding out you’re a tad gassy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex’s expression pinched, which Tom ignored and carried on. “Can’t we just like, witch-hunt you? See if you sink or swim?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t waterboard me, my therapist pays extra for anything involving torture.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut your bloody face. You don’t have a therapist, you just vent your dirty arse in my face, you hoodlum.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex pouted, argued a bit, then agreed. Ten minutes later, Alex was sprawled out in a pair of borrowed boxers that Tom honestly didn’t want back. He soaked there in warm water with a mystified expression as he started to poke a long frilly feather sticking out from below his jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mate,” Tom said calmly, thinking of all his old cryptid and cryptozoology posts. “I think you got fucked by a cryptid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh god,” Alex said, mystified at his weird new appendages. “Nessie had a real mess with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom stared at the gills, reaching out to stroke one carefully. Alex shuttered, the little frills responding and flaring like tiny fins. Alex looked at him with wide scared eyes, skin pulling apart weirdly advanced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom?” Alex asked quietly and very freaked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom remembered the blog and forum he had commented on ages ago and the connected pictures of something inhuman that resembled Alex a terrifying amount. “Mate, I’ve got something to show you.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So I’m an actual moonfish now,” Alex said numbly. “And, my apparent weakness, is being squashed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. So not too much has changed?” Tom tried tentatively, “you’re still the world’s most annoying cockroach?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you,” Alex said on instinct, “this is bloody amazing. Tom, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tom. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>find Nessie now. Do you have any idea how many people lose wedding rings in the ocean? Tom, Tom I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>rich.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are a certified dumbass,” Tom confirmed happily. “I’m just here to remind you, as a friend of course, that with great power comes great sacrifice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not how the quote goes-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mate, you lost your dick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex paused, looked down in his borrowed boxers, and closed his eyes in a moment of silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll put your dick in your casket, or at least in memory,” Tom said with the barest hint of a laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex opened his eyes, his gills receding under his skin like how cats could sheathe their claws, and he said: “I hate you, so much.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex’s reintroduction to the world existed on the basis that he clearly had been taken away from the world. Jack had moved on (good for her! Bad for him!) so Alex took his life insurance policy money MI6 provided like an idiot and purchased himself a nice quaint little house near the fishing market because there was no way he would avoid using his abilities now that he knew them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom came over a few times, bringing horrible movies to poke fun at his gills. The Shape of Water led to an entire argument about his lack of dick, leading to Alex throwing Tom into the Thames then rescuing him like a damsel in distress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His fridge was empty because Alex learned, anything he ate came up hours later completely undigested. His washroom now existed only so he could snooze (breathing underwater was cool, so he abused his abilities whenever he could) and his television served more use than anything else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The call came in months after Alex came back from the world, apparently to recover from trauma. The medical unit wanted to vet him, but Alex claimed amnesia and a healthy dose of trauma to avoid any grubby latex paws from touching him. Alex was a nicely traumatized agent, thank you very much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was why he felt quite alarmed and off-kilter when the mission information came to his phone, alerting him to an urgent emergency requiring his personal service.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh come on,” Alex groaned, flipping through the ridiculously short briefing. “Who needs me to sit around and look pretty at the harbour?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was only twenty minutes by tube from his house, running along the Thames to a larger portion of the river. Alex knew that MI6 would have cleared out all pedestrian traffic at that time, leaving only him in his bright orange hoodie and a dozen agents in swat gear and body armour.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d ask if I could have some body armour, but I imagine it’s like the gun situation,” he muttered, scowling and flipping off one agent who was holding a </span>
  <em>
    <span>rocket launcher. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, Alex,” someone said. Revealing to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alan Blunt.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Alex said, suddenly feeling very very bad about this situation. “You’re...here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am,” Blunt said, lifting both eyebrows thoroughly unimpressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re never here,” he stumbled, “you’re- you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, for once my personal observation is necessary,” Blunt said absolutely calm. Alex saw that he had a gun, the bastard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, just on time,” Blunt said quietly, striding forward towards the end of the harbour with utter confidence. The swat teams fell back, taking a strategic position, some setting up elaborate guns longer than Alex’s arm. It looked completely like they were expecting a drug cartel to be showing up at any second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boat that approached could have belonged to a fisherman, lugging a massive crane to carry a coiled net on its stern. It drifted nearby, rumbling loudly and setting minor wake. The dock wiggled, floating over the tiny swell until it settled and the boat began to drift closer, engine turned off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blunt, much to Alex’s hysteria, calmly reached down to grab a large rope. He tossed it across like one would throw a frisbee, looping a large anchor point and pivoting the boat to anchor. The other ropes were suitably secured with barely any practice. Blunt had an excellent aim.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A pleasure,” Blunt said, throwing his voice higher onto the fishing boat. He stepped backwards, walking almost entirely back to Alex before halting, interlinking his fingers behind his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, Yassen Gregorovich emerged from inside the boat where he had been piloting the vessel. He strode across the back stern and onto the dock between two steps, looking nonplussed at the lack of stairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand this is quite a strange transaction,” Blunt said across the dock. “Regretfully, MI6 contracts tend to apply only to those of special forces.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A coincidence, nothing more,” Yassen Gregorovich said flatly. “Your target coincided with mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen had- had filled an </span>
  <em>
    <span>MI6 Mission? </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was impossible, Yassen would have never done such a thing. And even if he had, why would Alex be needed here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you recovered important documentation for us as well,” Blunt commented with a thin smile. “Quite an agent you’re becoming, Mr. Gregorovich.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen frowned, expression sharpening slightly. It was almost funny to see- forcing a short giggle out of Alex.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, right, Alex,” Blunt said, smiling openly in a horrible way that suggested he wasn’t about to like what was going to happen. “You were required as our messenger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Alex said, taking a half step backwards. “But, but you’re already talking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A transaction agent,” Blunt clarified. “Hence why the boy is unarmed, and with no protection.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s adequate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex gawked, “uh, no it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>adequate. Wait, hold up here-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will not be shot,” Yassen provided helpfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really </span>
  <em>
    <span>hope </span>
  </em>
  <span>you don’t shoot this bloody messenger,” Alex growled, sulking forward to grab whatever stupid documentation Yassen had fetched. “This is so ridiculous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen made the quietest noises, something that could have been a laugh but too minor to ever be heard by MI6. There was something in the man’s body language that seemed fond, something minor that tickled Alex’s brain and made the greeting seem much more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘It’s good to see you,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yassen seemed to say somehow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex chalked it up to being tired. He grumbled under his breath, grabbing the briefcase and climbing back out of the boat, brushing nearby Yassen and snarkily adding, “you’re such an asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen reached out, his fingers barely brushing Alex’s hair before there was a sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex jolted, collapsing to the ground frantically and patting his body to double-check he wasn’t injured. The briefcase clattered to the ground, Yassen staggered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, cease fire!” Blunt shouted, but already trigger happy agents let loose two following </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang! Bang!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen stumbled, dropping to one knee as bright red splattered to the ground. Hadn’t Yassen been wearing body armour? What had MI6 loaded the guns with? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yassen bared his teeth, pink and dripping a bright bubbling froth that suggested a lung had been punctured. He wrapped both arms around his chest, swaying slightly as blood soaked through his clothes dangerously fast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something shattered, Alex, reaching out with one hand shakily towards Yassen. Another </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Yassen’s entire head jerked back as something exploded and he fell sidewards, splashing into the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You…” Alex whispered, utterly in disbelief. “...you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone! Get the kid out of there-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Negative on backup! I repeat I don’t see any backup on the scanners-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You idiots!” Blunt was shouting, pacing around with one hand in his hair. “You- who did it! Which trigger happy moron fired? Eh? Hansen, get on the likely contingency plans immediately! Someone get me a goddamn phone!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex was sitting there, staring at the blood puddles. Yassen had been shot and then part of his head blown off. He fell into the water. Maybe Alex could get him? He would be alright if Alex got him, right? Maybe someone-.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe this,” Blunt continued to growl, pacing frantically. “Ziller! Where is the closest containment zone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir? A containment zone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A bloody moonfish! A moonfish containment zone-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir? I’m sorry but- but it’s never been reported that a moonfish was an active unit, let along Gregorovich-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex looked up as someone helped him to his feet, another faceless agent tugging him gently from the blood pile. Blunt was shouting, agents paranoid and freaked about something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me go,” Alex mumbled quietly, feeling terrified the further he strode from the water. “No don’t- don’t touch me. Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch me!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something splashed behind him, more gunfire rained. The agent screamed, scrabbling before falling to the dock and over the edge. Alex stared, breathing heavily with wide eyes. The dock was shaking slightly, rolling over the tiny waves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fall back!” Blunt shouted, agents, scrambling to take point with a half dozen laser markers over the wood. Alex scrambled to his feet, falling onto his knees as the dock shook heavily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled onto his back, staring down between his feet with heavy breathing as a hand gripped the furthest point of the dock, pinched between the fishing boat and the wood planks. A normal hand, a man with hair on the knuckles and a white grip. Tensed on the edge, before lunging forward up to an elbow with another hand joining it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh fuck,” Alex wheezed, scrambling back quickly, “what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck-.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something horrific and disgusting rose from the water, body inside outed with a head erupted a bit like a tulip. It’s center core a collection of tiny hooked teeth and long flowering feathery gills. Tentacles like a lion’s main, each tipped with a foot-long sucker and the silky tendrils of jellyfish stingers. Normal human hands stretched out from an exploded body, covered in greenish-brown lobster keratin shell and something like a clam, more clear pink connective tissue and feathers covering its body like a bloody peacock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck,” Alex breathed, and something in his brain relaxed inexplicably at the sight. “That- that’s a…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Moonfish!” Someone screamed behind, and the gunfire rained like that of a firefight. The shotguns? Exploded off bits of tentacles and shattered the thick keratin shell. The pistol picked off individual bronchi of the gills. The missile launcher blasted off a section of its middle, leaving it hollow and oozing out bright bubbling blood that rapidly congealed with finger-long gills growing rapidly from the stumps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It screamed a loud hoarse noise of air pushing and pulling through a dozen different vocal cords. A bit like whale songs, how they could move through different air sacs to sing and never exhale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt wrong, it felt like- “Yassen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A missile launcher exploded the top half of the creature, its head rolling and splashing into the sea. The headless body twitched, then more gills grew out of it until it writhed like a feather duster. It sang, singing bright and loud and deep that vibrated the windows on the boat. It spoke in a hissing croak, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘where...where is my…’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, fuck!” Blunt was shouting, “we can’t kill it- Roger’s don’t you fucking-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bam bam! </span>
  </em>
  <span>The shotgun went off, </span>
  <em>
    <span>bam! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Alex looked down at his body, where the spray of shells lodged themselves deep in his skin and skull and he knew he had been struck by friendly fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! You hit Rider! You hit the bloody kid-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the moonfish </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed, </span>
  </em>
  <span>huge puffs of water exploding from its back like a breaching whale. It lunged forward, heavy long feathery gills becoming arms that swabbed the deck and brushed one man into the water. Stinging jellyfish nets stretched, leaving one woman screaming even as only a small fraction of her wrist was uncovered. Tentacles snaked across the wood, fracturing the planks and tearing them off into the sea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘My- my-’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>it seemed to shriek in fury and outrage, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘my kin you-.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex choked, vomiting bright frothing blood that meant nothing. The moonfish </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed, </span>
  </em>
  <span>lunging forward again and slowly eating through the planks and gaining ground. An arm reached forward that resembled the hooked crustacean claw of a crab. Another limb looked like a flared fin of a fish, collapsed and limp above water. Long spines like catfish jerked upwards, whiskered barbs touched everything before tentacles found a foot near the surviving planks and dragged them under to drown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rider- Rider-!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex choked and wheezed and thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘good thing Tom didn’t stab me-’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Yassen (was it him?) touched him with one of those powerful coils and caressed across his skin, carefully touching and prodding and wailing a loud croon whilst screaming a high piercing click that left agents dropping to their knees and clutching their bleeding ears. Alex thought it sounded like a dolphin, or a porpoise or whatever the difference was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared at the sky, wondering if it would be a full moon tonight, and Yassen tugged him gently (</span>
  <em>
    <span>lovingly, carefully</span>
  </em>
  <span>) into the water and into the embrace of a hundred gills and air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alex knew from before that he didn’t really need blood or a heart. Just and only air, and he would live because he didn’t know how to die-.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Yassen being a moonfish made a great deal of terrible sense. Yassen was there and Alex </span>
  <em>
    <span>remembered </span>
  </em>
  <span>being crushed and told: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“hold your breath”.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Mine mine,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yassen somehow rumbled and vibrated below the water, receding into the Thames as MI6 died and drowned around them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Mine, should not have left you.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘No,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex said with air in his throat and across a half dozen vocal cords, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘you shouldn’t have.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hehehehehe<br/>We love some platonic lung caresses</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924714">Salty my Sweat and Fingertips</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/galimau/pseuds/galimau">galimau</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
</body>
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